Boundless
by Salmagundi
Summary: It surprises Canada that there are still things he doesn't know about America. America/Canada/America fluff.


_**Boundless**_

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Warnings: Incest (US/Canada/US) and geography kink, sex.

Notes: I wrote this for kitrinathegreat for the Hetalia Sunshine Exchange.

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_"Geography has made us neighbours. History has made us friends. Economics has made us partners. And necessity has made us allies. Those whom nature hath so joined together, let no man put asunder." - John F. Kennedy_

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He lingered at the edge of wakefulness,his face buried against his brother's warm blonde hair. He breathed in the scent of sex still lingering warm and musky on America's skin, not quite covering the crisp dryness of the mountains, the faint hint of sea brine. Canada shifted, arms still wrapped loosely around America's middle as he moved. His lips brushed the back of his brother's neck, nostrils flaring as he breathed, long and deep, and felt America stir against him.

"Mattie?" Voice still foggy with sleep, but there were hints of something else in his tone - incredulity or laughter. "Are you _smelling_ me?"

"Yes." His ready answer took his brother aback; America falling silent, no motion but the slight rise and fall of each breath. Canada would have smirked but he didn't have the energy. "Is that a problem?" His voice came out light and low, a quick kiss pressed to America's nape, the slight scrape of his teeth against the rise of one shoulder blade and he felt America shudder.

"What the hell? You're not high, are you?"

Canada chuckled, flicked his tongue over that same spot and paused, a thoughtful expression dancing across his face. He could feel the low shiver run through his brother's frame as he tasted that spot again, an experimental lick. America tasted of salt, more than the salt sweat of physical exertion.

He raised a hand to brush the pad of his thumb across the area, the curiousity bubbling in him. "What's this?"

"Huh?" America half-turned, blue eyes widening a fraction, the colour so vivid without the faint sheen of his glasses in the way. Eloquent, as always.

"This spot," Canada rubbed at it, moving his finger in a slight circle, "What is it?"

The look on America's face - a blank stare - did not change, frozen in place for a moment or two more, staring at Canada like he'd just grown another head. If they weren't naked together, spooned until they touched border to border, Canada would have felt self-conscious. Maybe he still was, a little, but America's hesitation bolstered him.

"It's... er..." A pause, the hint of red creeping across America's cheeks and that slight bit of colour tugged at some deep part of Canada. "That's Salt Lake City. Well... the lake part..."

Of course. He leaned in to brush his tongue along that same place, just the barest of touches, putting that piece into place on his mental map. Funny, that he hadn't known... all the times they'd curled on each other, pressed so close that they could have been a singular being - one with mountains and lakes, desert and tundra, and all in-between - but still he didn't know every line of America's body... somehow.

Fingers traced the curve of America's spine, from the strong angular jut of the Rockies - he knew, he knew because they shared it - down to where they ended, before retracing his route. America turned further, long enough to look at him. A slight arch of one brow and then Canada leaned in and cut off America's words before they could come. He stole America's breath away, hungry for it, and he felt his brother's soft laugh against his lips as he withdrew.

"What's gotten into you this morning?" America's eyes gleamed, almost glowing in the dim light that still managed to filter in past the curtains.

Canada drew back just enough so he could see his brother's full expression. The slight curl to America's lips spoke of humour, but a bit of wonder too, hints of skepticism that Canada hadn't been able to dislodge even after years of waking up like this.

"Can't I just be curious?" His hand shifted down to cup at America's hip, his thumb grazing the softness of a patch of skin there, the texture still different. He wasn't sure what the scar was from. He hadn't thought to wonder before... "I mean... you're my brother after all." It didn't seem weird until he said it out loud, that he could as easily have said 'lover' and it would have made no difference.

_We are what we are._

"That depends." America was smirking openly now, leaning in to brush his tongue across Canada's lower lip, a slow, teasing flick.

"On what?" He breathed the words.

Those blue eyes gleamed impossibly bright. "On what you intend to find out... and how you plan to do it." A hand dropped down, his warm palm resting atop Canada's and guiding his fingers along the length of that blemish. Something darkened in his eyes for a moment, a tightening to the edges of his lips and Canada didn't need to ask.

"Does it still hurt?" Not what he wanted to ask... he could have kicked himself for ruining the moment.

Then he felt the warmth of America's breath against his cheek, his front now pressed to his brother's side - odd but far from bad. "Only sometimes." Canada's hand slid away from the spot, grazed against the dip between thigh and abdomen, and he was pleased to hear the catch in America's voice. "Mattie..."

"Hush." A slight nudge to guide America back onto his side and then he could mold himself to his brother's contours again. His breath trembled in his throat as they settled into place and he pressed a kiss to America's shoulder. "This is better." A soft noise, indeterminate. "The Rockies are here..." A slight shift of his body allowed him to slip a hand between them and brush against America's spine. He knew this geography, shared as it was, making it a good place to start. His hand swept away to trace America's sides. They felt familiar and yet not... much like his own - a shared feature, if a bit different in the details. Flat and green, fertile soil. "The Prairies?" He ventured a guess, letting his hands creep around to rest on his brother's belly, shifting until he felt himself sliding more neatly into place against America - two puzzle pieces coming together.

"Great Plains." America murmured and Canada huffed against the back of his neck, stroking the flatness of his brother's midsection, the slight rise of his abs where the softness gave way to muscle.

"It's the same thing."

"Mine's awesomer."

"That's not even a real word." Canada chuckled against the side of America's neck, grazed the edge of a tooth against the smooth skin and felt America buck back into him.

America caught himself immediately after and let out a soft laugh that wasn't a laugh. Canada could feel the tremble in the muscles beneath his palms and teased lower until the pads of his fingers brushed against that faint treasure trail, so blonde it was nearly invisible against the tan of his skin. "I-it is too..." America hissed back between the shortening breaths. "J-just like... awesometastic..."

Canada smirked, knowing that his brother wouldn't see it. "I guess, if you say so." Very deliberately, he skirted his hand to the side and felt the brush of another odd texture nestled low in the hollow where America's leg and body met. "What's this?"

The pause was not uncomfortable this time, though it was long. Canada blinked at this, drawing back to try and get some clue of his brother's expression. All he could see was the curve of America's jaw as he turned his face into the pillow, but the spreading flush going all the way down to America's neck was intriguing. He rarely caught his brother embarrassed and he'd not actually looked at that part of his lover - it was rare that they had the time for leisure.

He yanked at the blankets covering them, heard America let out a noise that was almost a squeal as he grabbed at the coverlet too. The tug of war that ensued was brief but fierce and lasted until Canada went the underhanded route and deliberately tickled at the backs of his brother's knees. America let loose his hold with a yelp.

In a heartbeat, Canada was draped halfway across his middle, one elbow planted firmly on the mattress as he slid his other hand low, traced that raised area again and felt America's legs clamp together and pin his hand in place. "Aah!" He gave a tug and found it futile. "C'mon Al." He turned his head to try and catch a glimpse of his twin's face, to no avail, his neck simply wouldn't twist around that much. "It can't be that bad." A flustered garble of noises was his only response and he went straight for the kill, dropping his voice a bit. "Alfred-" felt the flutter of muscles and knew he'd caught his brother's attention. "You know I won't laugh." He tried to give a purr, but it came out lower in his chest, more of a rumble. "Spread your legs for me." _I promise I'll make it worth your while._

The pressure against his hand eased as he felt America relaxing and he was finally able to nudge his brother's thighs apart. Despite his words, he almost did laugh at the sight of the spot he'd been touching. "I didn't know you had a tattoo!" He traced the shape of it with his fingers, wondering.

America provided without him needing to ask, though the embarrassment still laced his voice, tinged with defensiveness. "It's Las Vegas."

"Aha-" Canada smirked again as he curved his body, strands of hair brushing against the sensitive skin of America's inner thigh as he pressed a kiss to the spot. "Cute."

His brother would have bristled if he hadn't been distracted by the hands trailing back upward, tracing the faint rise of his ribcage. Canada closed his eyes and just drew in air in long, slow pulls as he followed the touch of his fingers with gentle flicks of his tongue. He mapped out his brother in scent and taste and texture. The dry warmth of the deserts and the fluttering sweep of the coastline. One hand rested on America's chest, feeling the beat and the pulse of the cities beneath his fingers.

"I always figured it would be D.C.," he murmured, kissing America's skin before resting his cheek against the spot.

"Yeah." There was a smile in America's voice. "It's close though. More than you'd expect."

There was another scar beneath Canada's fingers now and this one he knew. It found its echo on his own chest. He brushed it, traced the edges of the burn, hesitated for a couple of heartbeats before pressing his lips to the mark in a fleeting kiss. No apology, no regret at doing what he'd had to do. He'd put that scar on his brother, as America had on him.

_And in this way, we are the same - you to me, me to you_

He dragged himself up further, feeling the flickers of urgency in his chest, fluttering through his insides and turning them hot and liquid. The languid ease fell away as his lips found America's. His brother surged up to meet him, tongues brushing and tangling. America's hands came up, hooking around his middle, forcing him to shift or fall. One leg came up and over to straddle America's waist, the bare slide of skin on skin, his brother's palms hot against his sides, steadying him.

As they broke apart, driven by the need for air, their eyes locked with each other - blue to violet - a hand shifting away from Canada's midsection to rest flat against his chest. Canada echoed the move, held it for a moment, feeling the quick patter of America's heartbeat beneath his fingers and tracing that scar again before trailing his touch up America's arm.

Their fingers twined for a moment before Canada guided their hands downward. The soft scrape of America's nails against his belly drew a short hiss from him, then that warm hand reached the heat of his own flesh. Held. He drew a trembling breath, gave a roll of his hips and felt the friction as America moved in an answering motion, the curl of his fingers engulfing Canada.

It felt good... so good... but still, there was a sense of something missing.

Canada slid off his brother, feeling America's hand slip away from him and hearing the faint sounds of protest. The noises turned to surprise as Canada nudged his brother onto his side, America's back toward him.

"Mattie?" America quivered, head turned toward Canada as he settled into place behind. "What-"

But there was no room for questions. Canada buried his face against the back of his brother's neck and breathed in the scent of him. His hands slid low, cupped at America, and he felt the slight tensing of the muscles in America's abdomen, anticipation.

"Hold still for a second..." One hand moved back down between their bodies, gripping himself, and America stretched out an arm, reaching for the dresser. The motion jostled Canada, forced a pause in his motions until America passed back the tube of lubricant. Canada pressed a kiss to the curve of America's shoulder and whispered, "You always think you know what I'm going to do, don't you?"

"Of course," America let out a sound that wasn't a laugh.

The lubricant was still useful; Canada uncapped it with his thumb before squeezing a generous amount into his palm. It slid easily onto the heat of his shaft and he could feel the telltale shift of his brother's body as America moved to spread his legs. Canada stopped the motion with a firm hand and smiled at the strange, choked noise to fall from his brother's lips. "Surprised you, Al-" he almost purred, "it's not always so easy to guess, is it?" The tip of his tongue dragged along the shell of America's ear as he shifted a fraction lower, guiding himself between America's close-pressed thighs.

They were flat against each other now, the closeness pulling their bodies into unison. In moments like this, Canada could feel the borders blur between them - the touch of their bare skin and the feel of their land all at once. He wasn't America but he could feel America.

His hand wrapped around America's length as he rocked in short tight motions, reluctant to pull far. America's thighs were slick with lubricant, warm, cradling him in a tightness that sent shivers through him.

Unoccupied fingers traced every small spot on America's skin and here in the heat of the moment, in their closeness, he knew that they were. The golden fields of the bread basket, stretching up America's belly. The trailing curves of the Mississippi following the stretch of America's inner thighs, down past his calves. The nimble industriousness of his hands, especially in the lines of his palm where Matt identified the sprawl of Chicago. The heady loam of the temperate rain forests of Washington, nestled along the curve of back and upper spine...

_I know you..._ The words, mouthed against the back of America's neck.

America's thighs quivered and flexed, gripping Canada with a control he was surprised to see his brother display. His own fingers squeezed and stroked, pulled, thumb flicking along that sensitive spot beneath the head and he was rewarded when he heard that strangled noise that his brother only ever made in these moments. No semblance of articulation, just the mindless, animal noises that settled into the feverish repetition of his name.

"Mattie... Mattie, Mattie, Mattie... God..." The buck of America's hips pulled at him and he closed his eyes, feeling the pooling heat, the raggedness of his own breathing.

"Al..." He almost couldn't hear himself, his own voice barely stirring the air. His fingers trailed along the bare, hot flesh. The trembling came to him through the closeness of their bodies and the arch of America's back.

Words he couldn't hear through the pounding in his own ears...

He felt a surge of warmth against his fingers, shifted to trap it against his palm, still rubbing as he felt the quivering aftershocks dance through his brother's body. America keened, soft and low, and Canada pressed an open-mouthed kiss to the back of one shoulder blade, his hips moving in frantic rhythm as he continued to slide into that sweet tightness between those clamped thighs.

So close... America's small noises pushed him toward the precipice, pushed him over. His face, buried against America's hair, as the world blurred into a hot white haze around him.

This was the moment. He could feel America against him and it was those indistinct few seconds where their borders ran together. For that moment, their moment, he could sense America down to the farthest edge of their shared landmass. Canada wondered, in the fuzziness of his thoughts, if America could feel him in the same way - if America could experience the cold of the arctic circle and the wide spread of his unsullied forests, the way that he could feel the burn of America's deserts and the sticky humidity of his wetlands. He'd never asked, never would ask, but he hoped it was true, nevertheless.

It never lasted as long as he wanted it to, passed through fleetingly and gone somewhere in the span between heartbeats. He was trembling a little as he fell back into himself, for just a moment feeling cramped inside of his own skin. His breathing settled long enough that he could hear the soft rasp of America's laughter.

"Don't you say anything," he mumbled against America's hair. In the words beneath the words they could both read what he meant. _Don't ruin this._

"Mmm..." America made a noncommittal sound, enough that Canada knew his brother had no intention of listening to him. A hand came down to cover his where he was still cupped lightly and he shifted up, fingers trailing a path along America's belly. Somewhere in the back of his mind he registered the notion but didn't put it together until his palm rested flat against America's chest and he could feel the steady rhythm of the heartbeat beneath his fingertips. A soft, questioning murmur that America answered in the simplicity of three words. "Love you, Mattie..."

Canada swallowed all the things he wanted to say, closing his eyes and nuzzling into the crook of America's neck. "Love you too, Al."

A pause in a long contented silence. Canada found himself falling into an almost doze until America called back to him. "It's still your day to make breakfast..."

Canada refused to rise to the bait, nipping at America's nape and sucking lightly until the flesh turned red. America shivered against him as he pulled back. "As if I'd eat anything you'd cook."

A soft laugh, "And people say you're the nice brother."

"I'm polite, Al. That doesn't make me suicidal."

Pout. "My food's not that bad."

"_...Grits_, Al?"

"...they're good!"

"_...grits..._"

"Shut up!" America twisted around, breaking the connection between them for a moment, putting them face to face. Cheeks flushed, hair ruffled, he looked as though he'd been thoroughly ravaged. It was a good look on him, Canada thought with a hint of pride. He cut off the rest of America's protests by pressing their mouths together in a lingering kiss.

"Whatever you say," he purred against America's lips, knowing he'd already won.

"Damn right..." America breathed back, but neither of them moved, except to snake their arms around each other and cuddle close.

_On second thought..._ Canada smiled, nuzzling at America's throat as they settled belly to belly, _breakfast can wait. _

Sleeping in was a fine way to spend a Saturday, after all.

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A/N: For those who've been reading my other fics and eagerly awaiting updates, the delay on updates has primarily been because I took on two exchanges and the Hetalia minibang during the same two month period and it's eaten up a lot of my writing time. Updates will resume in the next two weeks or so.


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